


Bending near the earth

by bev_crusher1971



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-01 09:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/355072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bev_crusher1971/pseuds/bev_crusher1971
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why was no one looking for him? Why did no one miss him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bending near the earth

## Bending near the earth

by Beverly

[]()

* * *

The accident in itself was unspectacular. A speeding car, with a driver obviously under the influence, crashed into a parked truck. 

The police and an ambulance arrived only four minutes later. One of the police officers later reported that it was a miracle that the driver had survived the crash. The car was demolished but the driver, a young man in his late twenties, had barely a scratch thanks to the airbag that had deployed. Apparently, he had just bumped his head. He had been taken to Gotham Mercy Hospital and was still unconscious, although the doctors believed that he would wake up in a few hours, and the police would be able to interrogate him then. 

The accident was a few lines on the next to the last page of Friday, May 11th's edition of the 'Gotham Globe.' A day later, it was forgotten. 

However, the young man was still unconscious, and they didn't know his name. The car had been a rental and the name used was a fake. There had been no ID, no driver's license, nothing to identify him. Nobody knew where he'd come from; nobody knew why he was in Gotham. 

The tab on his file simply read 'John Doe.' 

* * *

Headline from the 'Daily Planet', Tuesday May 15th: 

"Luthor Heir Missing After Deadly Crash" 

All listed passengers are presumed dead in the yesterday's tragic airplane accident. Identification will take time, according to the investigators, due to the intense heat of the fire that destroyed the plane as well as a significant portion of the surrounding area. 

* * *

He awoke with a raging headache and the instant pledge never to touch alcohol again, no matter what form it came in. 

He opened his eyes slowly. White ceiling. 

A-ha. 

He moved his head a little. 

White walls. White bed covers. 

Hospital. 

Hypothesis confirmed by a nurse, sitting beside his bed, reading some gossip magazine. He tried to speak, but his throat was like parchment. However, the noise he made caused the nurse to look at him. With a blinding smile, she got up and stepped to his side. "Glad to see you decided to join us again, sir." 

She hit a little switch above his head, and then reached for a glass of water on his nightstand. Carefully, she placed a straw between his dry lips. "Easy, sir. Only little sips. That's it. Very good." 

He wanted to inform the overly solicitous nurse that he was perfectly capable of drinking alone when the door opened and a tall man in a white coat walked in. 

Enter the doctor, he thought, slightly amused. 

"It's good to see you awake, sir. I'm Dr. Wallace Langford. You had us really worried for a while there." 

He tried once more to speak, and this time it worked. "Why?" 

The doctor took his chart, wrote something down, and checked some of the attached equipment. "You've been out like a light, for several days now." 

He frowned. Several days? Then the hangover should be gone by now. A little irritated, he stroked back over his head with a shaking hand. He was a little startled when he could feel no hair, just a bandage stretching around his head. Well, maybe they had to shave him to treat the wounds. 

The doctor took a little pencil light, and checked his left eye first, then his right, and then he did something odd. Looking at him with a serious face, he asked, "Can you tell me your name?" 

"My name?" 

Dr. Langford nodded. "Yes. Your name." 

He stared at the doctor. Of course, he could he tell them his name. That was the easiest thing in the world, right? He was ... was ... he knew who he was. He just had to think a little bit about it. But he knew it. Of course, he knew it. His name was... was... 

Gone. 

He looked up at the doctor, and simply shook his head. "I don't know my name," he whispered, feeling miserable. The doctor only nodded. "Don't worry. It's not uncommon to suffer from a period of amnesia after a trauma like that. You were in a car accident and I have to admit that the circumstances of the accident were a little strange. There was no other car on the road, we found no alcohol or narcotics or any kind of drug in your blood, yet you crashed into a parked truck at high speed. Can you tell me something about that?" 

He frowned and fought hard to remember anything that might give him a clue as to who he was... and why he'd crashed into a parked truck. Unfortunately, where his memory should be ... there was just one big, gaping hole. Exhausted, he shook his head in defeat. 

The doctor nodded sympathetically. "I thought so. Don't worry, Mr. Doe. With a little luck, the memory loss will be only temporary. You'll see. In no time, you'll remember everything." 

He looked at the doctor and recognized the Mr. Doe. John Doe. The name used for those who have no known name. He laid back and closed his eyes. A few seconds later, he heard the door open and close. 

He was alone again. 

* * *

Headline from the "Daily Planet", Monday 21st : 

"Plane Crash Victims Identified" 

The article stated that the DNA testing had been completed. Lex Luthor had officially been declared deceased. 

* * *

Six days and six nights, and his memories were still AWOL. John tossed and turned in his bed from left to right and back. He had asked the doctor when they would release him, because with the exception of his amnesia, he was feeling fine. When the doctor has asked him where he'd wanted to go without an ID or any other identification, he had to concede that he was better off in the hospital. 

They had called the police, to see if he was in the Missing Persons file. 

Nothing. 

They had put his picture in the newspapers, hoping someone would recognize him. 

Nothing. 

Now he was lying restlessly in the hospital bed, not knowing what to do next, and it was torturing him. He had to get out. A quick glance at the clock showed him that in about three minutes Nurse Tiffany would make her final round. After that, he could go look for some clothes, and try to get leave. 

Just as predicted, Tiffany put her head through the door three minutes later. She came in, checked him, and then walked out again. 

John got up quickly and went to the cabinet on the wall. He opened it carefully and smiled. Yes, there were his clothes. They'd even had them cleaned. He put them on, marveling at the expensive materials. Whoever he was, he hadn't been a poor man. 

Who the hell, was he? 

He slipped into his shoes (the finest Italian leather, a little voice inside his head whispered, and he had to smile at this little tidbit of information), and quietly opened the door to his room. The hallway was empty, and he managed to escape the hospital unseen. 

As soon as he was outside, he took a deep breath, inhaling the cool, fresh night air. 

For a few moments, he was uncertain which direction to take, and then he turned his steps to the right and started walking. 

His first mistake of many that night. 

* * *

Sidebar on page 19, "Gotham Herald", Friday May 25th 

More homeless people than ever. Citizens urge the mayor to act. 

* * *

The fire burned low in the old barrel as Missy, one of the many homeless people of Gotham, tried to warm her freezing hands. She was old. So old. And more often than not, she wished that she could fall asleep and not wake up in the morning. But whenever she felt that way, a soft voice could be heard. Whenever she was close to giving up, _he_ would come. The man from out of the sky, Gotham's protector of the poor. 

Gotham had Batman who took care of the rich people. He protected the city and its inhabitants from thieves, murderers, and other dark creatures. He had no time to look out for the poor people, too. The people that lived in the gutter, slept under the bridges, and ate what other people threw away. 

Missy was one of those lost souls. A lifetime ago, she had been married. She had lived in a nice home, with some cats, and many memories about their children. Her husband had died one day. He had been almost ten years older, and his death had been no surprise to her. Then the owner of the apartment had told Missy that his daughter would be moving in the following month, and that Missy had to get out and find somewhere else to live. 

It had been impossible for her. So she had lost her home and, not long after that, she had lost her job, too. 

Ever since then, she'd lived on the street. There had been good times and bad times. For the most part, the other people in Gotham left the homeless people alone. They simply ignored the fact that they even existed. 

Missy was glad about it, and she still remembered the night when she had first met the 'Angel of the poor'... 

The night she had been unable to find anything to eat. 

She couldn't steal, like some of her friends did every now and then, when the hunger became too much to bear, when normal rules didn't apply anymore. She also couldn't beg. Her pride was still too strong for that. So she sat under one of Gotham's many bridges, hugging her knees, shivering in the cold and feeling miserable with hunger. 

Suddenly a bowl appeared before her eyes, and a friendly voice spoke to her. "You have to eat something, ma'am. Here." 

She looked up into two amazingly green eyes. Shoulder-length, dark hair surrounded an angelic face. He was dressed all in black, but his face was friendly. Then her gaze dropped to the bowl he'd handed to her. It held warm soup with vegetables, even some meat. She could hardly believe it. 

"Is this ... is this for me?" she asked in a shaky voice. 

He knelt down before her, went right down on his knees in front of her. "Of course it's for you. I saw that you're hungry. You have to eat. It is good, hot soup. It's not quite as good as the one my mom used to make, but I can promise that it's not _that_ bad." 

He smiled then, a smile that seemed to shine like the sun, and warmed her from the inside out. With trembling hands, she took the bowl and wolfed the soup down. When she was halfway through, she could feel a hand on her arm. 

"Slowly, ma'am. Please. Eat it slowly. Otherwise, you might not be able to keep it down." 

She looked at him, and then took the next swallow a bit slower. They sat like that in silence until she finished the soup. She handed the bowl back to him, and said, "Missy. My name's Missy. I'm not a ma'am anymore. I am just a Missy." 

Missy smiled at the memory as she shifted closer to the barrel. That had been the first time that she had seen him. His name was Kal, but they called him Angel behind their hands. He was always there for them. As soon as night fell, he started to visit them. He brought food and listened to the stories they told him. Sometimes, he even brought clothes for them: warm scarves, gloves, and woolen hats to protect them from the cold, thick overcoats, fluffy and almost luxurious. He never asked for anything. When they thanked him, he simply smiled and walked away. He took them to a doctor when they were injured or sick, and not one of the doctors ever asked for money or even an insurance card. The doctors treated them, smiled at Kal, made some small talk, and then gave them the medicine they needed. For free. And that was that. 

He couldn't help them to get off the street. But what he did was worth so much more. He gave them hope and he made them feel human again. 

Missy was sure that he could fly. She had seen it on more than one occasion. He didn't have wings, no, of course not; Missy was old but she sure wasn't stupid. He flew quietly, softly, a little like Batman, but without the cape, and the costume. He showed his face. Showed it to those who needed him; that trusted him. 

Suddenly she could feel warmth surrounding her. A thick coat was gently laid over her shoulders, and she turned around, smiling. "Hey, Angel." 

Two friendly eyes gazed down at her. "Hey, Missy. How's my lady doing tonight?" 

She giggled, and could feel herself blushing like a schoolgirl. "I'm fine, Kal." 

Kal moved a little closer to the fire. The flames were dying. Missy sighed a little. When the fire went out she'd be freezing for the rest of the night. Kal saw it, too. He moved like lightning and, within seconds, the flames were roaring, happily lapping at some new wooden blocks piled up in the barrel. She smiled. Tonight, she wouldn't need to freeze. 

She spoke to Kal. "Have you seen the new one?" 

He turned to her. His black eyebrows moved a little closer together, and gave his face a dark, almost brooding expression. "A new one? No. Tell me." 

She gestured in the vague direction of another bridge. "I heard he got into some trouble with one of the Gotham's gangs. They took almost everything and, apparently, he doesn't know who he is." 

Worry. She could see it on his face. Worry for a new homeless one who was currently alone there in the dark. She smiled. "Go, Angel. I'm fine for tonight. He needs you. Go and look after him." 

A quick kiss to her cheek, and he was gone within the blink of an eye. She touched her dirty cheek, and smiled. 

* * *

Kal flew into the direction Missy had showed him, and after a few seconds, he found the man she had been talking about. 

He landed softly next to the man, who was sitting on the ground under the Main Bridge of Gotham. A quick x-ray showed that his heart was still beating strong. No broken bones, just a few abrasions and a black eye, but the stranger only wore a shirt and some boxers. First and foremost, he needed clothes, otherwise he would freeze to death in the cold of the Gotham night. Kal flew off and was back about two minutes later. The stranger was trembling almost violently, teeth chattering in the frigid air. Carefully, Kal addressed him, and then lit a fire with his eyes, a few feet away. 

"Hello? Can you hear me?" The figure seemed to shrink even smaller, as far as that was possible. Slowly, Kal walked closer. "You don't have to be afraid. I brought clothes for you. Would you please put them on?" 

He laid the bundle of clothes down next to the man and stepped back. He usually did that when he wasn't sure how someone would react to him. The stranger reached out and touched the clothes. With trembling hands, he took them, and started to dress. After a few minutes, the trembling stopped. "Who ... who are you?" croaked the man. 

Kal winced. He knew what had happened whenever a man sounded like that. He had been choked, and yet, the voice sounded strangely familiar. It stirred something deep inside of him, something he had thought he'd buried long ago. He stepped a little closer. 

"I'm Kal-El. I'm here to help you." 

"Kal? The Angel?" 

Kal smiled. "That's what I'm called. But I'm real, no heavenly creature. Would you please come out of the shadows? So I can see you?" 

Of course, he could have seen through the shadows if he wished. But he had gotten used to not using that power around here. Here, where the people were out in the open all the time, he wanted to give them at least a little privacy. That included no sneaking up on them and not using his super vision. 

Slowly, hesitantly, the man started to move. Step-by-step, he walked out of the shadows, and even more slowly he raised his head, looking shyly at Kal, who was standing under a street lamp. 

Kal gasped. Those eyes. The bald head. The little scar on the upper lip. Now he knew why the voice had sounded so familiar. He had known it so well, earlier in his life, back when he'd been still Clark Kent. He'd heard it on countless nights when he'd sneaked away from his parents to spend an evening with his best friend. 

His former best friend, Lex Luthor. 

He wanted to say something, but Lex beat him to it. "Do you know me? Can you tell me who I am?" 

Kal frowned. Then he remembered Missy telling him that the new one didn't know his name. "Don't you remember your name?" he asked quietly. 

He was shocked to see tears standing in those beautiful eyes. With a sob, Lex turned away from him. "No, I don't." 

Kal moved closer, and then took him in his arms. "What happened?" 

For a few moments, Lex tried to fight the embrace but then he gave in, and cuddled closer to Kal's warmth, instinctively accepting the once-familiar gesture. He started to tell Kal his story and he was done in about five minutes, because there really wasn't that much to tell. The accident, the hospital, the robbery; there was no more to remember. 

Kal's mind raced a mile a minute. In the last months before his disappearance, Lex Luthor had done his best to become the nemesis of Metropolis. Whenever something dirty was going on, whenever money had been paid to do an illegal job ... one could be sure that somewhere along the line, the name Lex Luthor would come up. 

Now his younger brother Julian was leading LuthorCorp, and the city had seemed to come to relax for the first time in decades. Their father Lionel had gone on an extended trip to Europe, and no one could say for sure when he might be coming back. 

_If_ he might be coming back. It was an open secret that Lionel and his son Julian didn't share the same viewpoints. It was no wonder that the moment LuthorCorp was handed over to Julian, Lionel would leave. 

And he did. 

Kal thought back to the plane crash from about ten days ago. The victims had been burned so badly that it had been impossible for the ME's to identify them, so they had tried to do it via genetics. One of the corpses had been a Luthor. Apparently, it had been the Luthor patriarch. Lionel. Well, Kal wouldn't mourn for him. He'd been a real bastard, and many people had suffered because of him. Now he was gone. His younger son had stepped up to lead his empire, and his older son was currently resting in Kal's arms, sobbing quietly. 

Crying his heart out for his forgotten life. 

This was so un-Luthor like that Kal was absolutely sure that Lex really didn't remember a single thing about his past. 

He rocked him gently.   
"Ssh ... everything will be all right. I'm here now. I'll help you." 

He didn't tell Lex who he was. Maybe the amnesia was a blessing. Maybe he could show Lex a life without violence and crime, without blackmailing and betraying. He still didn't know why Lex was in Gotham and didn't know what had caused the accident. He needed to talk to his doctor, a Dr. Langford. 

After a while the crying slowed, Lex's breath hitched a couple of times in his throat, and then his breathing started to even out. Finally, he raised his head from Kal's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. 

"What for?" Kal asked. "It wouldn't have been natural not to cry after everything that you've been through." And hadn't Lex Luthor always been anything but natural? 

"They called me John," he whispered, and buried his face against Kal's neck. "Because I couldn't tell them my real name. Now I'm John. John Doe." 

A John Doe in dire need of comfort and a friend. Kal knew that he couldn't leave Lex here. He had to make sure that he was safe. Once the word got out that the high and mighty Lex Luthor was living as a homeless person in Gotham's slums, the press would have a field day, and there would be no place on Earth where they wouldn't follow Lex. 

He got up slowly, pulling Lex ... no, John ... up with him. "Come with me. You don't belong here." 

"Don't I?" His voice sounded so insecure. So timid that it almost broke Kal's heart. No. No, he didn't belong there. Maybe the old Lex would have, but not this version, who couldn't remember a single thing he'd ever done in the past. 

"No, you don't. Come on. I'll show you a place where you can sleep." 

"And be safe?" John was asking, his voice sounded already drowsy. 

Kal smiled. "Yes. And be safe."  
He grabbed John a little tighter, and slowly took off to his apartment. 

* * *

John awoke slowly. His head rested on a broad shoulder. A distinctly male shoulder. A strong hand was curled loosely around his ribs, soft breath stroked gently over his bald head. His bald head where still not a single hair grew, and maybe never would. 

Kal. 

The angel, the stranger had found him last night and had brought him to his home, to be safe. Somewhere in the night, a nightmare had woken him, and in an instant Kal had been at his side, comforting him, calming him down. John had asked him to stay. Kal had complied without a word. 

He was lying in John's bed, holding the other man gently, making him feel safe and secure. 

He still couldn't remember a thing about his past. When Kal had seen him the first time, there had been something like recognition in the tall man's eyes. But within the blink of an eye, it had been gone again. For one single, wild second John had hoped that against all odds this man might know him. 

But he didn't. 

Yet, though he didn't know him, he helped him. Sheltered him and gave him something to eat, something to drink, clothes and a bed to sleep in. 

Hope. Safety. 

"Are you awake?" 

The question was a deep rumble under his ear, and he raised his head. "Yes. Good morning." 

"Morning." Kal yawned, and then rubbed his eyes with one hand, a childlike gesture that made John smile involuntarily. 

It was gesture that seemed strangely familiar. It rang a little bell inside him. A thought, fleeting as the morning dew passed him by, gone before he could grasp it. Sadly, he shook his head. 

"You sleep good for the rest of the night?" 

John sat up, and turned his back to Kal. "Yes," he threw over his shoulder. And then, as an afterthought, "Thanks." 

Silence, then he could hear Kal getting up. "Good." The voice came from the end of the bed, and John closed his eyes. It hurt to be so helpless. He didn't know what to do with himself. Kal, sure as hell, had a job. And he? John? 

Didn't someone miss him? Was there not a single soul out there looking for him? Worrying about him? 

"We'll find out who you are." The voice was right beside his ear and startled him a bit. 

"Why are you doing this?" Now that he could think clearly, this question seemed important. "Why are you out there at night? Looking after those people?" 

The bed beside him dipped as Kal sat down. For a few seconds he didn't answer, and John was afraid that he might have stepped over some invisible line, but then Kal sighed deeply. 

"I care for them because they have no one else who does." 

"Do you know them?" 

A little laughter answered him. It sounded sad. "No. I don't know them. I just ... I want to help." 

_I want to help._

Again, there were words that almost sounded familiar, a thought just outside his reach. He sighed, and put his head in his hands. This time, the hand on his shoulder was expected. "Are you all right?" 

He laughed bitterly. All right? No. Not exactly. He was just about to reply something when Kal answered the question by himself. "No. I'm sorry. Of course, you're not all right. That was a stupid question." 

Kal got up. His movements were fluid, with a natural grace and elegance. John watched him, and despite his condition, he had to admit that he enjoyed the view immensely. 

"Do you want to go into the bathroom first?" 

Kal turned around and looked at him as he waited for an answer. He wore an old, well worn t-shirt with the words "Go Crows" on it and boxers. 

Go Crows. Go Crows. 

He shook his head. For a moment, he thought he'd heard those words before, but now he wasn't so sure anymore. 

Kal cocked his head slightly. "You don't?" 

Don't? Don't what? Then John remembered that Kal had talked about the bathroom. 

"No. You go first. I can wait." 

Wait and think. Try to remember who he was and why he'd been involved in that strange accident. No, not involved. Why he had caused an accident without any apparent reason. 

John could feel a headache coming, and with a barely suppressed groan, he let himself fall back onto the bed and pressed his hands against his eyes. 

Hurt. Pain. Sorrow. 

A deep, nagging sorrow. He felt desperate. He didn't realize that he was crying until he felt Kal's hands on his shoulders, pulling him up, holding him tight. Giving him comfort. He pulled away after some moments, wiping his eyes. He felt stupid. Childish. Yet he couldn't change the way he felt. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, sheepishly. 

"No need to be, John," Kal answered. His voice a deep rumbling on his ear. "You have every right to feel hurt." 

"Usually, I'm not such a wimp," John replied. "It's just..." He interrupted himself, and gazed up at Kal, his eyes wide. "How do I know that?" he whispered. Then a smile crossed his face. "I guess I just remembered something." 

Kal reciprocated his smile. "That's great. I knew your memory would come back. Anything else?" 

John furrowed his brows in deep concentration, then he shook his head. "No. No, that's it. Damn." 

"Hey. Don't beat yourself up. It's a start." 

Kal's hands squeezed his shoulders once more, and then he got up. 

John missed his nearness instantly. 

* * *

"You have to tell him." 

"I know." 

"So. When will you do it?" 

With a sigh, Clark turned around, and gazed at Batman who was looming over him, dark and brooding. "When I think that he's ready." 

A soft breeze made Batman's cape flutter, making him bigger than he was. "When will that be? When you decide that he's ready?" 

Clark nodded, his jaw set stubbornly. "Yes." 

Batman walked closer. "You can't keep him forever, Clark Kent." 

"I don't WANT to keep him, Bruce. He's not a homeless cat or a stray dog." 

Batman winced slightly when Clark addressed him by his real name. "Then why don't you bring him home to his family? To his brother? Back to his world? _Back to where he belongs!_ " 

Batman's voice grew louder and louder until he was yelling. A pissed-off Batman was usually something that made evil guys drop their weapons instantly, and give themselves over to the police. 

Clark wasn't even remotely impressed. 

"Because I think that there's a reason he came here. There were no business transactions planned for that day." 

"So?" 

"So I ... I think..." 

"You don't know, hm?" Bruce's voice was suddenly gentle, and with a sigh, Clark dropped his head. 

"No. No, I don't. I can't give you a single plausible reason why I'm not rushing to Metropolis with him and handing him over to Julian." 

Bruce Wayne took off his mask, and sat down next to Clark. The cool breeze ruffled the dark hair of the younger man, and Bruce had to remind himself that he didn't have to put his cape around him to protect him from the cold. Clark didn't even feel the cold, and yet... 

Clark was so young, and he looked so forlorn that Bruce felt terribly sorry for him. Carefully, he wrapped an arm around his young friend and pulled him close. "You have to let him go, Clark. Sooner or later, you have to tell him where he comes from, where he belongs. I know that you want to protect him, and that somehow you can still see the man he once was. He was your friend back from Smallville, but that can backfire. If he ever finds out that you kept him deliberately in the dark..." 

Bruce didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. Both he and Clark knew that the wrath of an insulted Lex Luthor could be terrible. 

"I'll take him to Metropolis as soon as he feels better," Clark murmured after a little while. "I'll show him some places and see if he remembers anything." 

Bruce nodded, but remained silent. 

* * *

"Metropolis?" 

The suggestion came about a week later. 

John frowned slightly, his head cocked slightly. The place sounded vaguely familiar but he wasn't sure whether he had heard it somewhere, or whether he actually remembered it. "Okay," he agreed after a few moments of thinking, wondering why Kal was looking so tense? 

"Kal?" 

Kal looked up. The smile was forced, and there was no light in his eyes. 

"Are you sure you want to go?" 

Kal nodded. "Yes. We've been through all of Gotham without you remembering anything. Maybe Metropolis might trigger something." 

"If you think so." 

He still wasn't a hundred percent convinced, especially with Kal looking like he had bitten into a lemon. But then...what other options did he have? 

* * *

His first impression of Metropolis was scary. 

Gotham was a dark, almost brooding city filled with what seemed to be millions of people by day, and the scum of the earth by night. 

Metropolis was loud. Colorful. Filled with yelling people, laughing and screaming kids, singing birds, and thousands of honking cars. 

Although the sun was shining from a cloudless blue sky, Kal had insisted on him wearing a cap. With big eyes, John took in his surroundings. 

Kal led him downtown and showed him some of the most famous buildings, including the imposing towers of a firm called LuthorCorp. 

John hated it at first sight. He tugged on Kal's sleeve. The taller man turned around and looked at him. 

"Does someone actually _live_ there?" he asked, and pointed to one of the LuthorCorp towers. 

Kal smiled. It was a sad little smile, as if he had heard something that had brought back unpleasant memories. "Yes. Until his death, Lionel Luthor lived there, the founder of LuthorCorp. Now his younger son Julian has moved in there. Does ... I mean ... do any of those names sound familiar?" 

John thought hard. He had the nagging feeling that he _should_ know those names. That maybe in an earlier life, he might have heard them occasionally. But like always, the memory was just outside his reach. He shook his head, a gesture that was becoming a habit. "No. Not at all. They seem to be familiar, but I'm not sure about that." 

They walked through Metropolis for what seemed to be the whole day. Kal showed him various places, buildings, even some pictures of Metropolis' famous people. Like the mayor, and Julian Luthor. 

It was almost five in the evening, when John, tired from the walking, the thinking, and the constant disappointments, pointed to a bench in a park they were walking through. "Can we sit down for a while?" 

Kal nodded, smiling, the first genuine smile that day. "Sure." 

They sat down, John a little closer to Kal than what might be necessary, but he didn't care. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, and rested his head on Kal's shoulder. For a moment, he thought he could feel him tense up but the moment was fleeting, and only seconds later, he felt the taller man's arm around his shoulder. 

"Kal?" he murmured sleepily, without opening his eyes. A deep rumble was the only answer he got. He took it as a yes. "Can we go home? Please?" 

Again, the barely noticeable tensing, then he could feel soft lips pressing against his forehead, followed by the question: "Home?" 

John didn't raise his head. The sun warmed him from the front, and Kal's arm felt so good around his shoulders. "Yes. Home. To Gotham. To your apartment." 

For a long moment no answer came. Then... "If you want to." 

He nodded against the strong shoulder. "Yes, please." 

* * *

The question had caught Clark totally and completely off guard. Home? Did Lex consider the little apartment he stayed at whenever he was in Gotham - thanks to Bruce and Wayne Industries - home? 

Two months earlier, Lex would have laughed his ass off if someone had told him that he would call some place home that wasn't at least the size of two soccer fields. Now he felt at home in a little flat in Gotham. 

They arrived there a little after eight, and a look into the refrigerator told Clark that he really, really, needed to go grocery shopping. He kept his coat on, and grabbed a slip of paper to make some notes. He was so engrossed in his shopping list that he didn't notice that Lex was standing right behind him, peering over his shoulder. He started and turned around, when he heard the softly spoken "May I join you?" For a moment, he didn't know what to say. He had gotten used to the 'other Lex', the John-Lex, but it still startled him sometimes that John was so obviously enjoying the simple things in life. 

He nodded absentmindedly. "Of course. Maybe you'll see something you recognize." 

Lex's face fell instantly, and Clark became worried, something that seemed to go hand-in-hand these days. 

"Something wrong?" 

Lex turned away. "No. It's just ... can't we just do something together that's _not_ meant to make me remember?" 

Clark was confused. "But I thought you wanted to remember?" 

Lex sat down, and stared at his hands. "What if I don't like what I might remember?" His voice was very quiet and very controlled. "What if this amnesia is a blessing rather than a curse?" 

Clark swallowed.   
"John, I ... I don't know ... " ...what to say. But he didn't finish the sentence. Taking a deep breath, he held it for a second before he let it out very slowly. He extended his hand toward Lex, smiled, and said in a soft voice, "Hey, John. Do you want to join me while I run some errands? There are a few things that you might like." 

* * *

Clark discovered that going shopping with Lex Luthor sans his memory was fun. 

Like a little child he ran from one shelf to the other, filling Clark's cart with so much stuff that the homeless could be fed for at least a week. Suddenly a chill ran down Clark's spine when Lex reached out for bottled water to add it to the cart. 

Bottled water in small bottles. 

In small _blue_ bottles. 

Old habits die hard, Clark thought. But he wasn't feeling amused. But apparently, he was _looking_ odd because Lex studied him with a frown on his face. "Kal? You all right?" 

Clark forced himself to smile. "Yeah. Sure. It's just ... why did you pick this water?" 

Lex looked into their cart as if he just now realized what he'd done. Then he shook his head. "I don't know. I didn't think about it. It was just...I saw it and I knew instinctively that I liked it." 

With that, the discussion seemed to be over for Lex. Clark could see the way his face was closing down and knew that Lex didn't want to continue talking about why he did what he did. He missed the smiling and laughing Lex instantly. 

He pushed the cart a little faster forward until he was next to Lex, and bumped his shoulder gently into the other man's. "Hey ... they have a real mean fruit section over there. Wanna go and have a look?" 

The smile came back in full force and for a moment, Clark was blinded. "Sure. I love fruit." 

Clark reciprocated the smile, but bit down on questioning how he knew that. He simply followed the once-again bouncy Lex over to the fruits. 

Later that night, after a home-cooked meal from Clark, they sat together on the couch, watching some old, cheesy movie and sharing a bowl of popcorn. Lex didn't seem to notice that he scooted closer every time he moved until he sat practically glued to Clark's side. 

Clark did. 

He could feel Lex's body, his warmth, and if he concentrated just a little, he could hear his breathing and the steady beat of his heart. In a rush, all the emotions he had ever felt for the man flooded back with a vengeance, threatening to overwhelm him. Emotions he'd thought he'd lost along the way, but they hadn't, they'd only been suppressed. Now, with a new Lex so close and trusting by his side...he had to force himself not to make a move on him. 

Lex trusted him. 

_John_ trusted him. 

And there was not a snowball's chance in hell that he would ever hurt Lex - or John - by misusing that trust. But it was hard, because Lex (John!) was resting his head on Clark's shoulder. A gesture so sweet and trusting that Clark was almost melting. He wanted nothing more than to put an arm around Lex's still fragile-looking form, pull him closer, and protect him forever. 

_You can't keep him!_

Bruce's words came back to haunt him. As did his own answer, 'I don't _want_ to keep him.' 

He didn't, did he? 

_Did he?_

The little voice inside him that sometimes sounded like his mom, and sometimes like Chloe, simply snickered. 'Yeah, sure...' 

With a deep sigh, he let his head fall back against the back of the sofa. Lex turned his head a bit so that he could look at him. "You all right? Is this...I mean...you can tell me if you don't like this." 

His voice sounded so small again, and he began to move his head away. 

"No!" 

It almost came out as a shout, and Lex looked a little irritated, but thankfully left his head where it was. A little more softly, Clark continued, "No, it's okay. I...I like it." 

Silence settled once more until Lex's yawning reminded Clark that the other man was still recuperating from his accident. He gently nudged his head. "Wanna go to bed?" 

Lex moved a little closer, though that seemed hardly possible, and asked very quietly, "Wanna join me?" 

For a few moments, Clark was painfully aware of his surroundings; the ticking of the clock on the wall that seemed extremely loud, the beating of his own heart. The sound of the traffic coming from the outside, filtering in through the half closed window. And there was Lex...his smell, his warm breath on his skin, his hand that rested comfortably on Clark's thigh. 

And that hand was suddenly pulled away. "I'm sorry," murmured Lex, his eyes riveted to the floor, studying the carpet. "I guess that was out of line. Here you are ... trying to be nice to me, and I make a pass at you. Excuse me. I ... ah ... I better go to bed now." 

* * *

A large hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him down, until he was sitting next to Kal again. John felt so incredibly stupid, and wished that the earth might open up to swallow him whole. Of course it didn't. It would have been too easy. 

A deep sigh from Kal pushed him to gather enough courage to look at him again. In his face, he saw no rage or hatred...something closer to...resignation. 

"John, why did you say that?" 

John shrugged helplessly. For a moment, he was totally at a loss for words. Then he admitted quietly, "I feel so lost. I don't know who I am, who I was, _what_ I was. Was I someone nice? Someone people loved? Or was I a monster? Someone people despised? Is that the reason why no one is looking for me? Is everyone I've ever known simply glad that I'm gone? Did they...maybe somehow...cause this accident in a hope to kill me? You're the only constant in my life. I feel close to you. You take care of all those homeless people out there. And yet you give me the feeling that I'm special. I know I'm not. It's just ... I feel safe with you. And I guess I'm beginning to fall in love with you." 

The last sentence came so quietly that even John himself could hardly hear it. There. It was out. Finally. 

When there was no reaction from Kal, he got up once more. "I guess I should head to bed now." 

He left the living room without Kal trying to stop him, and hid in his bedroom. He felt like crying. He screwed up. He knew that he should leave but he didn't know where else to go. Maybe he could hide somewhere in Metropolis. Kal soon would forget about him or would simply remember him as one of the many strays that crossed his way. Methodically, he undressed himself, brushed his teeth, and went to bed. There...in the darkness...illuminated just by the moon and the stars, a single tear slipped down his cheek and vanished in his pillow. 

"I'm so sorry, John." 

John didn't turn around, though he startled a little because he hadn't heard Kal coming in. "Don't be. It's not your fault." He talked to the wall opposite him. 

He could feel the bed dip on one side, and tensed up to avoid rolling over and touching Kal. A warm hand descended on his shoulder. 

"I should have told you from the beginning." 

John still didn't turn around. He lay with his back to Kal, and continued to stare at the wall. "Told me what?" 

"I know you. I know who you are." The voice sounded sad, and full of regret. 

"Who am I? Do I want to know?" John felt a mixture between hope and despair arise inside him. 

"I brought some articles about you. From the press. And pictures. From your youth. And from the time we ... we knew each other. I'll leave it on your nightstand. I'm in the living room if you want to talk about it." 

With that, John could feel the bed move when Kal rose. He heard the opening and the closing of the door, and Kal was gone. John was alone again. He turned around and stared at the file sitting on his nightstand as if it was a dangerous animal. A snake, ready to attack and bite him, to kill him, to destroy his new life. 

Carefully, he reached out, picked up the thick folder, and opened it. There was a picture lying on top. It showed him and Kal, laughing, embracing each other. They both looked much younger, and John turned it around. 

Lex and Me, Summer 2001 

Lex. So that was his real name. Lex. It didn't sound familiar. No bells were ringing. No flashes enlightened him. He put the picture aside, and started to read the articles. And with each one, his heart sank. 

* * *

It was the first time that Clark was sad about the fact that alcohol didn't numb him. He knew that what he'd done had been right. He'd _had_ to finally tell Lex the truth. He couldn't risk that he'd found out by himself and would hate him. 

After almost three hours, he could hear the opening of Lex's door. The other man walked in, and for a moment, Clark was shocked. Lex's face looked as if he had been crying constantly over the last hours. It was puffy and swollen. He sat down next to Clark, heavily. 

He tossed one article onto Clark's lap. 

"So this is who I am?" 

The headline read "Ruthless billionaire takes over Standwick Ind." 

"I'm a ruthless billionaire? The 'bald nemesis of Metropolis' as the Inquirer so nicely put it? The 'One no one will be missing should he ever disappear' as the Daily Planet said?" 

"Lex, I ...." 

"No!" Lex held his hands up in a quieting gesture. "You don't have to say anything. I read it all. And I understand." 

"You understand what?" 

For a moment, Clark wasn't sure if he could follow Lex's thoughts. 

"I understand why you haven't told me. That trip to Metropolis? You tried to jog my memory, right?" 

Clark nodded, still unable to look at Lex. Afraid to see the cold mask of the business tycoon he came to hate, instead of the warm and openly smiling face of John, the man he'd come to love. 

"You remember now, right?" Clark's throat was so tight that he could barely press the words out. 

Lex nodded. "I do. Thank you for letting me know. Finally. And for your hospitality." 

Clark winced but was surprised that the voice held no anger in it. Just some sort of understanding. After a little pause, Lex rose again. "I guess I should go to bed now. And tomorrow morning I'll go back to Metropolis." 

Lex turned around and left. Left Clark, alone. 

Although Clark had known that it was inevitable, it didn't hurt any less. He brought his glass back into the kitchen, went to his bedroom, undressed and brushed his teeth, and then climbed into his lonely bed. 

He laid there unable to sleep, until the first rays of the morning sun began to find their way into his room. 

* * *

Lex Luthor felt insecure and he hated that feeling. His cab stopped in front of the LuthorCorp building, and he stayed inside it for almost five minutes, until the driver turned around to him and said, "Look, buddy. I can understand that you don't wanna go in there. I, for my part, would prefer to jump into a water tank full of hungry sharks before walking in there. But I have to go on working. So if you'd please..." and he made a gesture to the entrance. 

Lex nodded, grateful that the knitted woolen cap and the dark sunglasses hid his true identity. He pulled out his wallet, and paid the fare, including a big tip, and then he finally exited the safety of the cab. 

He felt small in front of the imposing building. This was supposed to be the place where he had lived and worked. Should he really go in there? Lingering outside the building killed the next fifteen minutes. By then he knew what he had to do. He took a deep breath...and walked off in the opposite direction. 

He had lied. 

He'd lied to Clark, the only person who had ever been good to him. He still didn't remember anything. A few parts had come back to him while reading the articles Clark had collected over the past few years, but most of his past was still a big, black nothing. 

The few things he _did_ remember were things he was praying that he would be able to forget again. Things like the hostile takeover of Standwick Industries and the way he had fired the old man who had built the corporation. The memory of the daughter who had come to Lex Luthor and begged him to let her father remain in the firm that he had built with his own two hands, out of nothing. He had laughed and kicked her out. Her father had killed himself less than two weeks later. 

Ashamed, he hunched his shoulders and tried to hide a little more in the pea coat that Clark had bought him. 

He couldn't go in there. He couldn't go back to being who he'd been. He didn't know what he was going to do...maybe he would hide somewhere. Maybe find a job, and earn his own money, but not in Metropolis where he could be identified at any moment. 

He wandered aimlessly through the streets, took turns around corners he'd never seen before, passed buildings he didn't remember. He watched the pavement unwind under his feet until he suddenly bumped into a small form. He stumbled and almost fell before two surprisingly strong arms caught him. 

He looked up, directly into blue eyes he vaguely remembered. The woman smiled at him. "Whoa, Lex. Don't you think you should watch out where you're going?" 

He stared at her, and her smile slowly vanished. "Lex? Are you alright? I thought you were with Clark in Gotham? What are you doing here?" 

Then recognition dawned in her eyes, and she briefly shook her head. "God, how stupid of me. You can't remember me. I'm Chloe. Chloe Sullivan. Clark called me, and told me about your accident and your memory loss." 

The blonde woman talked a mile an minute, and Lex could hardly follow her. Between two breaths he could finally ask, "Do you know Clark?" 

She cocked her head slightly. And then she frowned and spoke very slowly, "Lex ... where is Clark?" 

He bowed his head. "In Gotham." 

"And you are here ... why?" 

"He told me everything." 

A big smile wanted to form itself on her face but only a heartbeat later it was suppressed again. "But you still don't remember, hm?" 

His head shot up. "How do you know?" 

This time the smile surfaced. "Oh come on, Lex. If you remembered everything ... _anything_ , you wouldn't be here. You would be there." 

She pointed at one of the big towers that overlooked the city. His gaze followed her arm, and he smiled. "You're right. I remember something ... fragments. Little bits and pieces but I simply cannot see the whole picture." 

For a moment, they stood facing each other, silently. Then the woman sighed, and reached out. "Come on. You can crash at my place. I have a lovely sofa, which Clark can attest to being really comfortable. We should call him. He must be worried sick. That boy really has a hero - complex." 

Boy? That was somehow cute. 

Lex smiled, and nodded. 

* * *

"He is _where_?" 

Clark groaned, and bumped his head repeatedly against his door frame, careful not to damage it. He listened only halfheartedly to Chloe's rambling while flitting through his apartment, throwing some clothes into a duffle bag, his own and some of Lex's. 

"No, no. Don't let him go. I'll be over in a few." 

He put the phone down, locked his door from the inside, opened one of his windows and took a quick look around and, when he could be sure that no one was watching, took off into the air. 

Two minutes later, he landed in the back of Chloe's apartment building. Chloe was already waiting for him. She took him in her arms, and held him close for a moment. "Where is he?" he murmured finally against her neck. 

Carefully, she entangled herself from his grip. "He's inside. I waited until he was asleep before I called you. Clark, how could you let him go?" 

He winced, and obviously, she hadn't expected anything different. "He told me he remembered." 

"Did he tell you? Or did you just assume?" 

He blushed. "I more or less assumed it. But I asked him, and he said yes." 

Chloe sighed. " _Of course_ he said yes. He said yes because he thought you wanted to get rid of him. He thinks it's because he made a pass at you. Out of the blue, you suddenly tell him you knew who he was all along, you show him the file and the articles so he _has_ to remember. And when you asked him...he knew that he _had_ to say yes." 

He groaned. "I'm an idiot, right?" 

She smiled one of her familiar, blinding smiles that always warmed Clark from the inside. "Yes, you are," she beamed. "But you're _my_ idiot. So come on in. You wanna take him with you?" 

He followed her inside and put down the bags he had slung around his shoulder. "Not right away. I thought we could stay here for a few days. I can show him around, maybe push his memory into gear." 

She walked over to the coffeemaker. Although it was in the middle of the night, she knew that caffeine wouldn't be a problem for her friend. And as for her? Sometimes she thought that she had more coffee than blood in her system. While the coffee slowly dripped into the pot, she turned around to watch Clark. He was in her living room, looking around. "Where is he?" 

She pointed to a closed door. "In my bedroom. I knew you would come right away so I told him he could sleep there tonight. I told him I had some work to do for the Planet and didn't want to disturb him." 

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. How did you find him anyway?" 

Chloe told him in a few sentences about their bumping into each other just around the corner, about his obvious confusion when he realized that she knew him but he had no clue as to who she was, and about her spontaneous decision to give him shelter for the night. "He looked so forlorn. In a way, he reminded me of the old Lex back in Smallville. Do you remember the days before his father locked him away in Belle Reve? He had the same lost look on his face. I simply had to take him home with me. He didn't look like the half-manic billionaire he became over the last few years. He looked almost...normal. Human. Vulnerable." 

Clark nodded. "I know. He seemed to be so happy these last few weeks." 

"Why did you tell him?" 

He sighed. "I had to, Chlo," he answered, absentmindedly using her old nickname from school. "I talked with Bruce about it, and he was certain that Lex would go ballistic if he should ever find out that I knew him all along, and kept him deliberately in the dark. I couldn't take that risk. I was convinced that if I told him and he remembered everything, then maybe we could go back to being friends. I hoped that he would be able to see that not everyone around him wants him dead. I was so sure that he would remember once he'd read all those articles and had looked at the pictures." 

"But he didn't." 

Clark shook his head and stared down on his hands. "No, he didn't. He was very composed. That alone should have been a clue that he didn't really remember. The old Lex would have ripped me a new one instead of simply telling me very politely that he'd go back to Metropolis." 

Chloe nibbled on her lower lip while she thought about the whole situation. After a few moments, she got up, and went to the kitchen. A minute later, two cups with the steaming brew stood before them on the small table. "What are you going to do now?" 

He shrugged, a helpless gesture. "I have no idea. I was so certain..." 

"Did you ever think that maybe he doesn't _want_ to remember?" 

He looked up, surprise and confusion written clearly on his face. "Why shouldn't he? He's lost his entire life." 

She moved a little closer and ribbed him gently with her elbow. "But he found another one. You just said that he was happy these last few weeks. Maybe his mind blocked away his past because for once in his life he was really happy, unconditionally happy." 

Clark opened his mouth to answer when a cry from the bedroom made them both jump up immediately. A deep, hurtful groan followed. A heartbeat later, Clark stood next to Lex. The other man was still sleeping but he seemed to be in the throes of a nightmare. He whimpered and cried pitifully. Very gently, Clark touched his shoulder, whispering, "Lex? Lex, wake up." 

He didn't react. Clark shook him lightly, speaking a bit louder now. "Lex. It's just a nightmare. Come on. Wake up." 

Lex moved away from the hand, curled himself around his pillow to a ball, still making those desperate noises. Clark called him again, louder this time. 

And with a different name. 

"John! Wake up!" 

Lex shot bolt upright, almost hitting Clark with his head. For a few seconds, he didn't seem to know where he was. Then his eyes fell on Clark, focused on him. 

"Clark?" His voice was rough from the crying, and there were still tears lingering close to the surface. And without another word, he threw his arms around Clark's neck and clung to him. "I was so scared," he mumbled against Clark's skin so quietly that even he had to strain his super hearing to understand everything. "I thought you left me. Abandoned me. I read all those terrible things, and I thought you wanted me to become that man again. I can't. I won't. Please. Don't make me go away." 

Unconsciously, Clark hugged him tighter, murmuring reassuring words. No, of course he wouldn't leave, never again. He'd stay for as long as John wanted him around. 

Chloe stood in the door, watching the two men, and then sighed. 

* * *

The nightmares came back the next night, and the following. Lex seemed to be unable to sleep peacefully, and Clark felt like the biggest bastard in the whole universe for showing him those articles about his former self. It was on the fifth night, after Clark had woken Lex up after yet another dream that had the other man shouting and whimpering, that Clark simply decided to stay. Lex curled around him as if Clark belonged there, and was asleep again, in what seemed like seconds. Clark held him loosely. That night there were no more nightmares. 

The next night found them cuddled up against each other in deep slumber. If this would help the older man to rest peacefully, then who was Clark to deny him that? It worked for three more nights. 

It was in the ninth night that the nightmares returned with a vengeance, and everything changed. 

Clark awoke from a fist that collided heavily with his jaw. He groaned, more in surprise than in pain. It took him another few heartbeats before he realized that Lex was fighting in his sleep. He muttered something that Clark didn't quite understand. He could only make out some words like "no", "let me go", "I'll bring you down for that" when the fighting stopped so suddenly that Clark was frightened for a moment, staring down at the almost lifeless form. He reached a hand out to touch Lex, when the other man jerked upright. For a few seconds, Lex sat still, staring with wide eyes into the darkness, panting harshly. Suddenly he jumped out of the bed and ran to the adjacent bathroom. Only moments later, Clark heard the unmistakable sounds of retching. He got up, and followed Lex a little slower. He may have been an alien, but that didn't mean that the smell of vomit didn't make him gag. 

Lex was finished by the time Clark reached the door, and he flushed the toilet. He rose on shaking legs and walked to the sink where he took a mouthful of water, rinsed and spit. He met Clark's eyes in the mirror, and with a very quiet and controlled voice he said, "I remember." 

Clark's eyes widened slightly. "Everything?" 

Lex nodded. "I had that dream again, and suddenly in a flash everything came back to me. I remember who I am. Who ... or better _what_ I was. God, Clark, what have I done to all those people?" 

Clark could almost see the fight going on inside the older man's chest. On the one side was Lex Luthor with his upbringing. He was born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, wealthy from day one, the billionaire who could build and destroy whole empires before noon... the man who had gotten rid of his conscience a long time ago because it only slowed his rise to the top. 

On the other side, was John who had learned about living an ordinary life. John who loved to go shopping because there were so many different things he thought he had never seen before. The man who loved long walks through the park, with the sun shining down on his face and the melodies of the birds above them, who loved watching cheesy old movies on the sofa, cuddled up against Clark and sharing a big bowl of popcorn - salted, not sweet. 

Which man would win? Clark held his breath, not realizing it. Almost as if in slow-motion, Lex turned around to face him. "I was the nemesis of Metropolis. I hurt everyone close to me. I pushed you away again and again. I denied you entrance to my office, kicked you out of the castle. I bought your parent's farm, and made them work there as my employees until your father died of a heart attack. I closed the company in Smallville and didn't care that hundreds of people lost their jobs. I married Lana because I knew it would hurt you." 

Lex broke down sobbing, sinking to the floor. Clark was too stunned to catch him. He simply stood there, staring down at him, and tried to process everything he'd heard. Lex hadn't been telling him anything new. He had known all of that a long time ago. To hear it from Lex was something quite different. It hurt. It hurt so badly. He tried to speak, but at first, nothing would come out. He swallowed several times before he could croak out, "Why, Lex? Why did you do that?" 

Lex's tears subsided and he just sat there on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, staring into nothingness. His voice was emotionless when he answered. "I wanted to hurt you. I loved you so much and you always talked about Lana. I would have moved heaven and earth for you, Clark. My love almost tore me apart, but there were always other people more important to you than I was. Your parents, Chloe, Lana...even Pete. I hated them. I hated them all so much. You trusted them, but you never trusted me. And I was the one who knew your secrets, who figured them out...and I kept it all to myself. I never betrayed you. Yet you never trusted me. That's why. I wanted you to hurt as much as I was hurting. I took away everything and everyone you ever loved. I drove you out of Smallville, then out of Metropolis. I never knew you were in Gotham. Otherwise, I would have found you there, and would have made sure that you had to leave there, too." 

Silence. 

"But it was you who found me." 

He laughed but there was no humor in that sound. It made Clark shiver. "You found me, and instead of leaving me where I was ... lost and broken, with no memory, no money...not...nothing, you took me in. You could have just let me die, but you helped me. You even came to Metropolis with me to help me remember again." 

Slowly, he raised his head up a bit. He still didn't look directly at Clark, just in his general direction. "I can ask you the same question, Clark. Why? Why did you do that?" 

Carefully, Clark came closer, and bent over to help Lex stand up. "I think you should go to bed again, Lex. We can talk about this in the morning." 

His voice was stripped of emotion and sounded strange even to his own ears. He helped Lex up, held him tightly, and walked him back to his bed. There he tucked him in like a little child. He was just about to leave when he heard Lex's whisper, small and heartbroken, "I was happy in Gotham with you, Clark. For the first time since I can remember, I was really happy." 

Clark closed the door. Sitting down on the couch, he started to cry. 

* * *

Chloe heard the commotion outside her bedroom but stayed out of it. She knew that whatever it was, they had to work it out on their own. 

After a while, she heard the door to the guest room, steps, and then silence. Then, she could hear Clark crying. It broke her heart, and despite her decision not to interfere, she got out of bed and carefully opened the door to the living room. Clark lay on the couch, crying his heart out. Quietly, she padded closer. He heard her, anyway. Blindly, he reached out for her and she let herself be pulled close. 

They sat together silently, his head in her lap, her hands in his hair, stroking him in a calming gesture. 

"He says he loves me," Clark finally broke the silence. "Says he loved me all along. Back when we were barely grownups in Smallville, he loved me. And he still does, or so he says." 

Chloe remained quiet, sensing instinctively that she had to let him talk now, that he didn't expect an answer from her right then. She was right. "Everything he did ... Lana, my parents, the factory ... all because he was jealous. Jealous of you, of Pete ... Chloe, can you believe that? He destroyed my life...my family...all out of love." 

"Don't you think you're being a little overly dramatic?" 

Clark sat upand glared at her. "Overly dramatic? Chloe! Dad died, because..." 

"...because he didn't listen! Neither to his doctor nor to your mom. Both said he had to take it easy. Had to take his medicine. Did he? No! Clark," her voice softened, "it's a tragedy that your father died. But it's not Lex's fault. Your father simply thought himself invincible. And he had to learn that he wasn't." 

Clark put his head back down again on Chloe's lap. After a while he admitted, "You're right, Chlo. I don't like it but you're right. Dad had this tendency to overdo everything. I remember a talk we had with his doctor. He said that he could've still been alive if he had taken his medicine regularly." 

She continued to stroke his thick, black hair. It was silken-soft. Softer than any human's hair. The beautiful alien and the bald billionaire, she thought. What a pair. 

"What do you feel today, Clark?" she asked with a small voice. She knew that years ago he had been deeply, desperately in love with his former best friend, and that it had broken his heart to witness the path of self-destruction Lex had chosen. He had felt helpless when he had discovered that Lex had cut him completely out of his life, and that had been the time he had decided to go to Gotham and help his old friend Bruce Wayne, aka Batman. 

For a long time, Clark didn't answer, and she thought that he had finally fallen asleep, when she heard a very quiet whisper. She had to bend down to hear it properly, then she sat back, tears in her eyes. 

"I never stopped loving him, Chloe." 

They sat like that until the first rays of the new day appeared on the horizon, asleep. There was comfort in the simple fact that they were with someone who understood and wouldn't judge them. 

When they woke up, Lex was gone. 

* * *

Julian Luthor was on the front page of the Daily Planet, the morning after. His picture had been taken with his brother Lex, who had been mistakenly declared dead. The interview was continued in the inner section of the paper. Lex told the story about his accident, his memory loss, and the fact that a good friend had taken him in to help him recover. 

"I can never thank him enough. He saved my life. In more ways than one," Lex told the reporters. He never mentioned a name. 

Clark stayed for two more weeks in Metropolis, until he could be sure that Lex was settled. He packed up his things, including the clothes he'd bought for Lex, gave Chloe a peck on the cheek, and flew off into the night, back to Gotham. Back to the homeless, the people that needed him, that relied on him. 

He worked hard in the following months. Every night he drove himself into exhaustion, sleeping through the day, and returning to his work the next night. 

Until that one night that changed it all. 

Again. 

* * *

Chloe Sullivan was fuming. She stopped her car in front of the apartment building Clark lived in and got out. On her way up, she pushed the button of the elevator several times as if she could force it to go faster. When she reached his door, she began to hit the doorbell almost violently, simultaneously banging her fist on the door. She didn't care whether the neighbors were disturbed or not. She was angry, she was pissed, and she was in the mood to tear Clark Kent a new one, right then. Under her arm was the newspaper, the reason for her fury. 

It had been almost half a year since Clark had found Lex Luthor in Gotham, almost three months since Lex returned to his world and Clark went back to Gotham. It had been long enough. Before she could torture the door anymore, it was opened, revealing a very sleepy-looking alien with tousled dark hair. 

"Hi, Chlo." 

She almost knocked him off his feet when she stormed into his apartment, slamming the door behind her. "What the hell is going on, Clark Jerome Kent?" 

He winced when she addressed him with his full name. The only one who had ever called him that had been his mother. And that was only if he had done something _really_ bad. She knew that. 

"Ah..." he began, but before he could continue, Chloe whirled around and glared at him. 

"Don't you dare to 'ah' me, Clark. What were you thinking throwing Lex to the wolves like that? Abandoning him so completely? Forgetting him like nothing ever happened between the two of you?" 

* * *

Clark was taken aback. He had seen Chloe angry before during all those years that they'd known each other, but never had she been so furious. Her eyes were shining, she hissed and spat like a mightily pissed-off cat, and practically every hair on her head seemed to be electrically charged. 

"I have no clue what you're talking about, Chlo," he dared to throw in between two very colorful curses. Wow! She must have hung out with sailors at some point, or maybe with her cousin Lois. 

She took the newspaper from under her arm, and threw it at him. He grabbed it...more out of reflex than out of curiosity. 

A big headline screamed at him. 

Lex Luthor Missing Again! 

"A few weeks after his miraculous reappearance from the dead, Lex Luthor has once again disappeared. Julian Luthor confirmed that his brother Lex has taken a leave of absence, without revealing when he would return. 

Read more on page 3, 17 and 38." 

Clark stared at the words. He said nothing, and Chloe sighed deeply. 

"Clark, have you seen him? Do you know something about this?" 

Clark opened his mouth to answer when a voice from his bedroom broke through the silence. "He knows everything about it, Chloe. Knows it first-hand." 

Slowly, very, very, slowly, she turned around and stared wide-eyed at the owner of the voice. 

With a highly amused smile, Lex came closer, only wearing what seemed to be silk boxers. He stepped behind Clark, and put his arms around Clark's waist. Instinctively, Clark returned the hug, pulling the other man a little closer to his body. 

Chloe sat down heavily, staring from one grinning face to the other, and said finally, "I need a coffee." 

Lex pressed a gentle kiss to Clark's shoulder, and murmured, "I'll go and get one, love. Why don't you keep her company, and tell her about our...reunion." 

He was almost in the kitchen when he turned around once more, and added with a wink, "But only the PG-13 part, Clark, okay?" 

Clark nodded, and with a big grin, he sat down next to a still-speechless Chloe Sullivan. 

~2 days earlier~ 

It was dark in this new moon's night. Clark had the feeling that it was even darker than it had ever been before. 

Ever since he had left Lex in Metropolis he'd felt that way. Even the full moon nights had lost their magic. 

It was one of the warmer nights in the dark city, and he had finished his usual round very quickly. There were no new people, no one was sick, and everyone had found enough to eat. There was only one more stop to make, then he could go home. Though he loved it when the night was quiet and his people happy - as happy as they could be - tonight he almost would have wished for some kind of emergency, to take his thoughts off the fact that he had to go home to an empty apartment. 

He was looking for Missy, listening for her voice, for her heartbeat, and found it. He was just about to land next to her, when he suddenly noticed another heartbeat. He frowned. Was someone troubling his favorite lady? He landed in the shadow of a bridge and slowly walked closer. Suddenly, he heard Missy's throaty laughter. 

It was accompanied by a laugh that was forever engraved in his heart. He felt his knees go weak and he stumbled. For a moment, he was unable to move, and then he slowly walked closer. 

And then he saw him. 

Lex. Next to Missy, in the same clothes that he, Clark, had bought for him. Now Clark could understand what he was saying. "So where is your angel tonight, Missy?" 

She laughed again, rich laughter, dark from too many cigarettes. "He'll come, John. Don't worry. I'm always at the end of his tour. Maybe there was an emergency somewhere else." 

Suddenly Lex raised his head, and stared directly at Clark, who had stepped out of the shadows into the dim light of the street lamp. "No, Missy. He's there." 

She turned around, and smiled at him. "Angel. Look who found his way back to us. It's John." 

"Lex," Clark breathed out, barely audible, then a little louder. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in Metropolis." 

Lex bowed his head down for a moment before he gazed up at Clark through his lashes. "I missed you, Kal." 

Clark walked closer, as if drawn by invisible strings. "You did?" 

Lex met him halfway and, before Clark could say anything, took the taller man in his arms. "I missed you so terribly, Clark," Lex whispered against Clark's shirt, and Clark felt a deep and profound joy inside. "I thought I'd go crazy in Metropolis. I've been missing you everyday. I missed your laughter, your way of seeing things. I missed being able to go shopping with you. I tried it once in Metropolis, and I felt like I was on display with people staring at me, reporters taking my picture, trying to get interviews while I was looking for some fruit. In the evenings, I missed our home-cooked meals and the way we washed the dishes afterwards. In Metropolis, I have servants for that, for the cooking _and_ the dishes. At night I couldn't sleep because you weren't there to hold me, when I had a nightmare. I knew you wouldn't be there to tell me everything would be all right." 

Clark's heart wept for the man in his arms, but it also held an incredible joy. The joy that John had won over Lex and that he had come back to him. Without thinking too clearly or too closely, Clark lowered his head and kissed him. 

Without hesitation, Lex kissed him back. Deeply. Passionately. Completely. 

"I missed you, too, Lex," Clark murmured against the other man's lips. 

Lex kissed him one last time and asked shyly, "Can we go home now, Clark? Please?" 

They barely made it through the door before Clark gave up all his inhibitions and kissed Lex hungrily, with all the love that he had kept hidden over the long, lonely years. In less than ten seconds, he had them both naked, and while Lex was still trying to recover from the shock of being stripped so suddenly, Clark lifted him up and carried him into the bedroom. 

The first skin-to-skin contact made them gasp, the first touch had them almost on the brink, and it took them only a few minutes to finish with a shout. 

The frenzy turned to patience, the sudden hunger to a deep-seated lust. They touched each other, stroked, caressed, and made love for hours. There were brief interludes where they just lay peacefully in each other's arms, with fingertips moving in lazy circles over silken skin. Minutes - or years - later cries of ecstasy filled the room, and the sound of flesh on flesh as one pounded into his lover, making him see stars. When Lex came in the early hours of the next morning, he had tears in his eyes. Clark moaned deep in his throat, and kissed Lex gently when he came inside his lover's body. He pulled out of Lex, causing a small intake of breath, and pulled him close. 

"I'm glad you're here," he whispered against the silken skin of Lex's shoulder. 

Lex didn't turn around, just pulled the arms that held him a little closer. "Why did you leave me?" 

Clark had hoped to...not exactly avoid this discussion, but maybe to delay it. But it seemed that Lex wanted to talk about it. He sighed. "I gave you back your world. I thought that was what you wanted." 

Lex turned on his back, staring at the ceiling, pressing close to Clark, never losing contact with him. "It was. For a little while, it was exactly what I wanted. Then I discovered that everything that once was so dear to me, was meaningless. Shallow. Worse. Everything I read about me, and everything you told me about Lex Luthor seemed to be understated, kinder than I deserved. No ... it _was_ understated. I was a bastard. A mean, bald, ruthless bastard that wasn't too shy to kill someone if it would serve his purpose. I didn't want to go back to being that man. I discovered it the day before yesterday, when I had an argument with my brother. I raised my hand - I don't know why anymore - and suddenly he flinched. He moved back, out of my reach. And there was _fear_ in his eyes, Clark. Fear. My own brother was afraid of me hitting him. What kind of a monster had I been?" 

Clark remained silent. Lex was right. He _had_ been a monster, one of the worst kinds, a true son of his father. Lionel had been proud of him. 

"Why did you come back?" he finally asked when the silence stretched to minutes. 

"When Julian thought that I might hit him, I bolted and ran away. I locked myself in a bathroom for hours, staring into the mirror, and I saw someone that I didn't like. Someone I despised...and suddenly I understood." 

"Understood what?" Clark pressed gently, feeling that they were slowly coming to the point. 

"I understood why no one came looking for me, why no one missed me when I was gone. I wouldn't have missed myself, either." Lex took a deep breath. "Julian is quite capable of leading LuthorCorp alone. His people love to work for him. They respect him, but they don't fear him. That's how it's supposed to be. I've sold him my part of the firm, signed over everything concerning LuthorCorp to him. I'm now merely a silent partner." 

Clark pulled him a bit closer. "You've given up everything that was ever important for you, Lex. What are you going to do now?" 

Lex turned around fully, watching Clark in the first rays of the morning sun that had found their way into the bedroom. He touched Clark's face gently. "I've given up nothing, Clark. On the contrary, I finally found everything I've ever been looking for." Suddenly he laughed lightly. "God, how incredibly sappy. I will categorically deny that I said something like that, if you ever dare to mention it to anyone." 

Clark was speechless for a moment, and then he joined in the laughter. "Will you stay with me? Here?" 

Lex stopped laughing, and practically threw himself at Clark, kissing him deeply and passionately, murmuring, "I thought you'd never ask." 

* * *

It was silent in the small apartment when Clark took the empty cups and put them in the sink. Lex had gone to dress properly, and Clark was waiting for Chloe to bite his head off, complain that he hadn't called and told her that Lex was in Gotham again. 

"I ... I don't know what to say, Clark," she said finally. "I was so sure that Lex had run away because he still couldn't remember everything. I was ready to kill you..." she interrupted herself, giggling before she continued, "well ... I would have yelled at you and your super hearing." Clark laughed aloud. 

Lex came out of the bedroom. He still wore the simple clothes Clark had purchased for him. He sat down next to Chloe. "So. When are you going to ask for the exclusive interview?" 

She blushed. "Is it that obvious?" 

He smiled. "You're Clark's best friend, but you're also a reporter. A very good one if I might add." 

Her blush deepened. "Thank you, Lex. Okay ... so ... when do I get it?" 

He laughed, and got up. Taking her hand, he pulled her up after him. "How about you if you come by tomorrow? Clark can make dinner and I make sure you get the right wine to survive his food." 

He yelped slightly when a cushion was thrown his way. "Okay...we order take-out, and no one needs a trip to the ER." 

"Hey!" 

Chloe laughed at the indignant shout from the kitchen. "Okay. I'll come by tomorrow evening. Eight?" 

Lex nodded, opening the apartment door. "Sounds lovely. It was very thoughtful of you to drop by. See you tomorrow. Bye, Chloe." 

With those words, he shut the door more or less in her face. Clark stood in the doorway of the kitchen and glared at Lex. The older man tried to feign innocence and failed completely. "What?" 

"Lex, you practically threw her out." 

Lex pushed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and prowled closer until he stood in front of Clark. The young man swallowed hard at the unconcealed hunger in his lover's eyes. "So? She'll survive. And she'll be back tomorrow night. So how about we go back to bed and continue with what we were doing when we were so rudely interrupted?" 

A shiver of anticipation ran down Clark's spine and, without any further protest, he let Lex drag him back into the bedroom. 

End 


End file.
